The Good Doctor
by dontfallforit
Summary: In order to catch a murderer who copies his kills after Maura's research, the team must go undercover for Maura's next medical conference.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: If any of these characters were mine, I'd be retired and drinking whiskey on the beach. **

There were two things that the Dirty Robber always got right: cold beer and more cold beer.

The bar was packed tonight with the Boston Police Department, celebrating the long-expected and well-deserved retirement of one of their own. Captain Harrison "Hatch" Deacon had served on the force for more than 40 years and his wife had finally succeeded where others (namely serious injuries) had failed—she had convinced Hatch it was finally time for a changing of the guard.

The crowd roared in laughter and hollered encouragement as Korsak shared a story of how dedicated Hatch was to the job. His booming voice, laced with hints of a familiar Boston accent, thundered across the noisy bar. "So that's how Deacon, with his 100 degree fever, ended up in the interrogation room with our only suspect in the case. We had spent hours trying to get him to talk, but he never said a damn thing—didn't even ask for a lawyer. Deacon is in there with him for five minutes and we get a detailed confession. How'd he do it? _**He threw up on the guy**_."

Jane instinctively leaned to the side, waiting for Maura's commentary on the different types of exotic diseases that express themselves through fever and vomit. She couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. It had become second nature for them in moments like this, to tilt their heads toward one another conspiratorially. Maura would spout off another one of her fun facts or a history lesson and Jane would listen. The detective always listened… she just didn't always care.

It took Jane an extra moment to realize all she could hear was Deacon retaliating with a tale from Korsak's failed marriage… one of them, at least. Her head shot up at Maura's absence, dark brown eyes immediately scanning the room for a glimpse of honey blonde hair. How could someone in heels that high and a skirt that tight move _so _fast?

Maura tried to flag down the bartender, but it was nearly impossible in a crowd of increasingly rowdy officers. She had noticed Jane's empty beer bottle earlier and was hoping she could slip away and return back with a fresh one before the dark brunette even knew she was gone. Though this was taking longer than she had planned, Maura was never one to back down from a little challenge.

She cleared her throat and caught the attention of the rookie officer standing next to her. The nameplate on his uniform read "Mackenzie." Maura smiled, batted her eyelashes and leaned forward, gently pressing her chest against his arm. "Oh, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm having a little trouble catching the bartender's attention…"

The officer turned around, still laughing at the exchange between Korsak and Deacon. His laugh cut off abruptly as his eyes met a hazel gaze before briefly dipping down to trace the swell of Maura's breasts, currently pressed convincingly against his forearm. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry. He had heard the rumors about how attractive the Chief Medical Examiner was, but he never imagined this. The blonde waves framing her face, blush pink lips, hazel eyes watching him from beneath long lashes… There was no denying it—Dr. Maura Isles was _hot_.

He cleared his throat and licked his lips, voice cracking slightly as he spoke. "Oh, it's no bother at all. What can I get for you?"

This was too easy. Maura tracked each physiological reaction and knew, without a doubt, that the rookie officer was attracted to her. "Two beers, please. And thank you, _Officer Mackenzie_…" She softened her voice when she spoke his name, breathless. Again, too easy.

Jane rolled her eyes when she finally spotted Maura at the bar pressed against a uni. She started to slowly make her way through the crowd, firmly pushing inebriated cops out of her way, never once taking her eyes off of the doctor. Halfway there, Maura turned her head and caught her gaze, tilting her head and smiling innocently. She always knew when Jane was nearby. They maintained eye contact as Jane closed the remaining distance between them, drawn like a moth to a stunning blonde flame.

Mackenzie nearly threw himself over the wooden counter to grab the bartender. He put the two beers on his tab and turned around, holding both bottles by the neck, only to collide with a hand pushing against his chest.

"Nice try, Mac. Go beat off elsewhere. She's too young for you," smirked Jane. "But no need to waste good beer. Thanks for the drink." She bit down on her tongue to keep from laughing at the rookie's disappointed face, plucking the cold bottles from his grip.

Maura watched with amusement. It had taken Jane longer than normal to intervene this time. Usually, she didn't even get the chance to breathlessly say someone's name before the dark-haired detective stepped in. Not that she minded all that much.

"Jane, be nice." Maura arched a brow and took a beer from Jane's hand.

"It looked like you were being plenty nice for the both of us. _Officer Mackenzie you're so strong, holding those two heavy bottles of beer_," Jane mocked before taking a long drink.

"He does appear to have very well-developed musculature, but I wouldn't go so far as to claim he is 'so strong' because of his ability to hold two bottles. I would, of course, need to perform a few additional fitness and conditioning tests to determine his strength."

Jane stared, beer tilted back against her lips. Maura smiled, knowingly, and waited for a reaction. Brown eyes met hazel and a few heartbeats passed before Jane broke into a large grin. The Dirty Robber crowd cheered again and the noise drowned out any possibility of a normal conversation. Jane stepped forward, intimately and comfortably into Maura's personal space, and bent her lips to the blonde's ear. Both silently assured themselves that this was the only way they could hear each other, so it only made sense to stand so close. Though all Maura could hear at the moment was Jane's low breathing and Jane was deaf to everything but the steady roar that accompanied standing so close.

"Why Dr. Isles, you had me going there for a moment. Well played, doctor." Jane's voice was quiet, but the words cut straight to Maura's core. It was raspy, hoarse, feminine, deep, and so implicitly Jane. Maura turned her head slightly to the side, leaning up to speak into Jane's ear, almost purring, "I learned from Boston's finest."

The crowd surged, rambunctiously fueled by alcohol, and Jane was suddenly knocked forward against Maura. The detective's hips pressed against the doctor's, effectively pinning her against the bar. Their eyes met again and Maura, without a second thought, reached up to brush back a loose tendril of Jane's dark curls that had fallen in her face. Jane's breath caught in her throat as Maura's eyes dropped to her lips.

The moment was interrupted by a sudden commotion from the door. Deacon started shouting and the bar's merriment turned as officers tried to decipher what he was yelling. Jane turned, instinct taking over, and gently pushed Maura behind her. The move did not go unnoticed—the doctor recognized that Jane was placing herself between Maura and possible danger. She placed her hand on the detective's back, acknowledging the protective gesture. This interaction defined their relationship. Words weren't always necessary. They moved as if the steps were rehearsed.

"We've got a body! Some sick fucker propped it up like a scarecrow in the alley," Deacon shouted again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: Still not retired and still not drinking whiskey on a beach somewhere.**

Frost looked up and down the street, scanning the surrounding buildings and stoplights for any cameras he might be able to pull surveillance tapes from. He kept his back to the body and nearly jumped when Korsak stepped next to him and clapped a large hand onto his shoulder.

"Must be pretty ballsy to dump a body next to a bar full of cops," the older man muttered.

"Ballsy or dumb. I'm hoping he…" started Frost.

"Or she," interjected Jane as she walked by, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail.

"… or she… made a mistake and one of these cameras here caught it," Frost finished, gesturing at the camera mounted over the bank ATM across the street and the camera attached to the stoplight at the next intersection.

Korsak shook his head. "No way he made a mistake. And yes, I'm saying 'he' because that body must be what? 180, 190 pounds? You don't take the time to carry a body and pin it up like a scarecrow in an alley off a busy street unless you've got it planned out. This was organized, methodical…"

"… creepy?" remarked Jane as she stood next to Maura.

The scarecrow certainly achieved the desired effect. When officers from BPD started spilling out of the Dirty Robber, more than one had faltered and paused at the alley entrance. The body was bound to a wooden cross, arms outstretched in a mockery of Death's embrace. A baseball cap hung low and cast eerie shadows across the man's face. Headlights from cars driving past illuminated the alley in brief bursts of light, creating the illusion that the scarecrow was moving. Really fucking creepy.

Even Jane had briefly hesitated when she first spotted the mounted figure, extending her hand in front of Maura to keep the doctor from marching forward. Maura had arched a sculpted brow and gently pushed Jane's arm down—fingers lingering for a moment longer than needed—before the clicking of her heels continued on undeterred.

"In Japanese mythology, a scarecrow is the manifestation of _Kuebiko_, a god of knowledge and agriculture in the Shinto religion. The earliest reference to _Kuebiko_ is in the _Kojiki_, from year 712. Roughly translated, the _Kojiki_ reads, 'This Deity, though his legs do not walk, is a Deity who knows everything in the Empire.'"

"That's nice, Maura, but unless you're telling me Mr. Kukuboo here is from the 8th century, what does that have to do with our victim?"

Maura hesitated and bit down on her lower lip. She never trusted her intestines, but there was a sinking feeling in her stomach and she _knew_ what she was going to find. She wasn't able to articulate why she knew with such certainty what to do next—she just held her breath and did it. Maura unbuttoned the flannel shirt, pulling back the material to reveal the dead man's chest. The Japanese kanji for "knowledge" was carved deeply into the flesh.

"How… how did you know that'd be there?" Jane asked. Color had drained from Maura's face and she was speechless, latex-gloved fingers tracing the wounds. The hair on the back of Jane's neck bristled as she watched Maura's complete transformation. The doctor's lips pressed together in a tight thin line, her eyes widened slightly in recognition, and her hand stilled. The changes in her demeanor were subtle and would have been overlooked by anyone other than Jane, but she knew the Chief Medical Examiner's work style too well. Maura was ever the consummate professional and possessed complete control when she examined a body at a crime scene. Anything that could rattle her and challenge that control was reason enough for Jane to be concerned. More than concerned—scared.

"Maura, what is it? C'mon Maura, you're making me a little nervous…" Jane tried to laugh softly, but the sound came out half-hearted and trailed off into silence.

"I need this body in my lab now. I'll start the autopsy tonight." And with nothing further to say, Dr. Maura Isles turned and left the scene.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

It was 2:30am when Jane finally walked into the morgue. After Maura had abruptly left the scene, Jane helped Korsak and Frost finish collecting witness statements and bagging evidence. Though every part of her wanted to follow Maura and make sure she was ok, she also understood the importance of giving her friend space and time to collect herself.

Korsak and Frost had gone home a few minutes ago, but Jane stayed because she refused to leave Maura alone. As she stepped into the room, her instincts took over and her body acted before she could think. She drew her firearm and it in front of her, two hands braced on the weapon as she swept over the room. Empty, except for the dead body on the examination table with its chest cavity open. The blinking red light on the recording device signified the machine was still taping. Maura was nowhere to be seen.

Jane's heartbeat accelerated and she refrained from calling out. It was too quiet. She should have followed Maura as soon as she left the crime scene. She should have come down to the morgue earlier. She should have called or texted.

Her mind was racing and she immediately remembered every instance when Maura had disappeared from the morgue. _Who the hell would take Maura? I swear, if even a single piece of hair on her head is out of place I'm going to fucking shoot this guy in the face._

Rustling paper from Maura's office drew Jane's attention and she slowly approached the open door from a safe angle, gun level and finger on the trigger. She was conditioned to push aside the rush of adrenaline—to use it as fuel rather than let it overwhelm her senses. The rustling stopped and the desk lamp clicked on. Out of habit, Jane mentally recited the Prayer for Policeman, lips moving silently over the words. _Grant them your almighty protection, unite them safely with their families after Duty has ended. Please God, grant us this wish._ Maura was her family. Grant her this wish of uniting safely.

Jane turned the corner, coming around the edge of the doorframe. Her aim was steady, her posture protective, and her voice clear. "Let her go and we'll… what the hell, Maura?!"

"Language, Jane." The doctor's eyes never left the pages she was rapidly flipping through, skimming over the text and processing the content at a pace that only hinted at her genius. The normally immaculate office looked like a perp's tossed apartment: books and journals were scattered across the desk and floor, binders lay haphazardly open and stacked atop one another, and papers—good God there were papers _everywhere_.

"Guess I missed the party," Jane deadpanned, slowly lowering the gun. Maura finally glanced up, her Google response dying in her mouth as her eyes raked over Jane's figure. The detective's eyes were dark and the rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was breathing at a faster rate than normal. She did a double-take when she caught sight of the firearm. The safety was off.

"Jane, you should be more careful with your weapon when you have the safety off. Studies from 2011 found that almost 15,000 people were wounded in unintentional shootings and nearly half of the people killed in unintentional shooting incidents were shot by another person."

"Good thing I always shoot with intention," Jane commented, visibly relaxing as she re-holstered her gun and walked toward the desk, stepping carefully around the disaster on the floor. "I thought someone was trying to steal one of your hoodoo fertility masks and I know how much they mean to you since they're the only things you would save if this building went up in flames."

Maura tilted her head and tried to stifle the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Jane's protective instincts and concern for her was reassuring, though she would never admit it for fear of making the dark-haired detective uncomfortable. Even Maura recognized Jane's habit of using humor to deflect and lighten the situation. It was really quite endearing.

"So… are you going to tell me why your office looks like my apartment?"

Maura's expression changed, frozen and terrified.

"I know what happened to our victim. I killed him."

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Frost barreled into the bullpen with Korsak close behind. Both had been awakened from their brief slumber by Jane's urgent phone call demanding they come down to the office immediately. No explanation, no details, just a dial tone.

Jane was pacing back and forth, her hair wild from constantly running her fingers through the mane and twisting her curls. Patience was never one of her virtues.

"Jane, what the he…ck is going on? Hello Dr. Isles," said Korsak, slowing down as he approached where Maura was sitting.

"Maura, show them."

The honey blonde slid a binder across Jane's desk toward Korsak and Frost, clearing her throat before stating, "I killed our victim."

Interrupting the stunned silence that enveloped the room, Jane threw her hands up in frustration. "From the beginning, Maura. Start from the beginning."

"A few years ago, I was invited to speak at a conference hosted by the American Academy of Forensic Sciences. For this specific event, I presented a recently published academic article on how to accurately determine various modalities of death when the body has been kept in cold storage—either frozen or refrigerated.

"During my presentation, I uncharacteristically spoke outside of my prepared notes. We work so hard to find the truth because we want to provide justice for our victims and a sense of closure for their families. Our victims may not be able to tell us what happened to them, but their bodies hold the answers and we need to look and never give up. They are powerless in death, but that doesn't mean they can't empower us to speak for them.

"As I mentioned to Jane at the crime scene, _Kuebiko_ is a figure in Japanese mythology depicted by a scarecrow. 'This Deity, though his legs do not walk, is a Deity who knows everything in the Empire.' _Kuebiko_ is worshipped as the god of scholarship and wisdom, but there is also a second meaning. 'Kuebiko' is also defined as a state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence that compel a feeling of helplessness, much like a scarecrow. You are aware, but powerless to do anything but stand there and watch." Maura paused, letting Korsak and Frost draw the connections. Her hazel eyes met Jane's brown ones, and the detective nodded for her to continue.

"At first, I believed this to be a coincidence, but the Japanese kanji for 'knowledge' was carved into the victim's chest post-mortem. It was intended as a message and not as a form of torture or as the cause of death. I noticed that some of the carved lines had been stitched closed, but I didn't know why until I began the autopsy.

"Every one of the major organs had been removed, frozen, and transplanted back into the body. The kanji was strategically used to cover the incisions. Whoever did this possesses a tremendous amount of surgical skill."

"Wait, doc, are you telling me someone cut our John Doe open and froze his organs only to put them back in? And he did all this and left only those cuts on the chest?" rumbled Korsak, his Boston accent more prevalent as he and Frost began to comprehend the implications of what Maura was saying.

"Yeah," Jane murmured in a voice hoarse not just from the late hour. She noticeably rubbed the palms of her hands, "We're looking for a goddamned doctor and one that's targeting Maura." Suddenly, Jane's restless pacing and the primal tension rolling off her body in waves made more sense. Maura was in danger and Jane wanted nothing more than to protect her, but she didn't know who—or what—threatened the doctor's safety. She didn't know what to watch for and that uncertainty had every muscle in her body coiled tight.

Korsak's phone rang. Then Frost's and Jane's and Maura's.

They had another body.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: A longer chapter to tide you all over for a few days, but I promise it's worth the wait. We're about to have a lot of fun, so you should probably follow this story if you haven't already. You should probably also favorite it. And maybe leave a review with the most awkward pick-up line that's ever been used on you (and you can't sue me if I end up using it in this story). **

Maura's hands curled around the warm cup of tea, inhaling the scent of peppermint.

"Angela, this tea is lovely. Clinical studies on the health benefits of _Mentha piperita_ have shown that the peppermint oil can provide minor relief for symptoms of Irritable Bowel Syndrome."

"Oh honey, are you going to the bathroom a lot? You eat so healthy, your stomach probably isn't used to what Jane makes you eat when you're out solving murders. Do you need some Immodium? I think I have some at the guest house and I can run over and grab you a few pills."

Maura shook her head, biting down to keep from laughing at the misunderstanding. Her hazel eyes focused on the steam rolling off the hot beverage and she composed herself before speaking. "No, I'm fine, but thank you. It's just… been an eventful couple of days…"

_**3 days ago**_

Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the chest. There was no wallet or other form of identification on the victim. The Homicide Unit processed the crime scene and treated the murder as a robbery-gone-wrong. The shell casing found near the body suggested a .38 caliber bullet was used, but—to no one's surprise—Maura refused to state conclusively that a .38 killed the victim without conducting a full autopsy. There was no evidence that this crime was at all connected to the "scarecrow." The victim was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Frost was running the man's prints through the system, waiting for a hit that would help them establish the victim's identity. Korsak and Jane were starting on the mounds of paperwork they had piled up from the two unsolved murders. The bullpen was quiet, but no one had forgotten Maura's earlier _Kuebiko_ revelation. Every now and then, one of them would glance uneasily at the binder that the doctor had left sitting on the corner of Jane's desk. They didn't exchange a single word.

The 'ding' announced the arrival of the elevator and the frantic clicking of heels announced the arrival of a rather panicked Chief Medical Examiner. Three pairs of eyes watched her nearly sprint into the room, her face pale and her trembling hands clutching another binder.

"They're connected. Our two murders are connected."

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

"During my preliminary examination of the body, I noticed that the entry wound in the chest did not have the characteristics I would normally expect if a .38 caliber weapon had been discharged. The wound and the damage inflicted were consistent with what I've previously seen from a .45 caliber weapon. This is the bullet I recovered from the body."

Maura dropped the evidence bag on Lieutenant Cavanaugh's desk. The .38 caliber bullet was in perfect condition, with no sign that it had ever been shot or had ever experienced any sort of impact. Cavanaugh's eyes widened, just the tiniest bit. "You found it just like this? Any prints?"

Jane shook her head. "Nothing, but we didn't expect to find any either. He's playing with us."

"Only a very skilled surgeon could remove all the potential fragments of a .38 bullet and impeccably replace it with a .45, leaving no trace evidence and causing no additional damage." Maura hesitated, disturbed and unnerved by the idea that someone who had taken the Hippocratic Oath could be responsible for this violence and destruction. It was a personification of her fears. What if it was a thin line that separated what she did from what the killer did? They were both very talented doctors, clearly intelligent and most likely from a similar educational background. Maybe they both shared a genetic predisposition for crime and it just exhibited earlier for the murderer. Maura, after all, was a descendent of a long line of Irish mobsters.

Jane saw the dark cloud of uncertainty sweep across hazel eyes and she knew exactly what was running through Maura's head. She wanted nothing more than to grab the honey blonde by her shoulders and shake some sense into her, but there was a time and a place. Ideally involving alcohol.

The two women sat across the desk from the Lieutenant, his office door shut and the blinds drawn down to give them some privacy. When the pair first sat down, Jane had pulled her chair a tiny bit closer to Maura's. Maura, in turn, sat with her body turned toward Jane. Both had acted subconsciously and without a second thought, but the motions did not go unnoticed. Cavanaugh had heard the rumors and he chose to ignore any reference to the office pools and the ongoing bets. Jane was one of his best detectives and Maura was _the best_Chief Medical Examiner that he'd ever worked with in his career. What they chose to do in their personal time was none of his business.

He watched Jane lean over and rest a hand on the back of Maura's chair as the doctor finished her explanation. They shared a prolonged glance before Cavanaugh cleared his throat to re-capture their attention. He almost felt sorry for the poor bastard responsible for the two murders. Jane Rizzoli would track down anyone who threated Dr. Isles, even hunting them to the Gates of Hell.

_**2 days ago**_

Jane glared at her mother, quickly mangling the bunny pancakes on her plate. It was early and before the morning rush, but the last thing Jane needed was some smartass comment on how her breakfast was ordered off the children's menu.

"Ma, what did I tell you about animal shapes," she hissed.

"I don't know why you're so sensitive about pancakes, Jane. And Rondo says they taste better when they have a shape," Angela replied, wiping down the counter and watching her daughter and Maura begin their morning ritual of trading food. The detective dropped her bunny ears next to Maura's egg white omelet while the doctor shoveled her hash browns onto Jane's plate.

"See, Janie, Maura likes my bunnies. Why do you girls even bother ordering separate meals? You just share everything anyway."

"Ma…" Jane continued to glare, taking out her frustration on the stack of pancakes by sawing through the butchered bunny faces. The harsh scrape of her knife against the plate caused Maura to wince and drop a hand to the brunette's thigh. She left it there until Jane muttered an apology. The blonde gave a reassuring squeeze, but her hand remained where it was and that's how Frost found them when he arrived a few minutes later.

"Good morning, Barry! Have you eaten yet or can I get you your regular?"

"Mrs. Rizzoli, if you keep feeding me those delicious egg sandwiches, I'm going to marry you."

"You're such a charmer. I bet you have no problem dating. Jane, you should take a lesson from your partner." Angela sent her daughter a meaningful look before she headed back into the kitchen to prepare Frost's order.

"Thanks a lot." Her tone dripped with sarcasm, which she quickly reigned in when Maura gave another gentle squeeze warning her to play nice. "Did you find anything from the _Bullet and Blast Injuries_ subscription list?" Jane asked around a mouthful of potato, immediately missing the weight of Maura's hand as the doctor pulled it back to finish her own meal.

"Well, we know Dr. Isles published her article comparing the difference between injuries caused by a .38 and a .45 caliber bullet in the journal's spring 2012 issue. We pulled a list of subscribers and cross-referenced it with a list of conference attendees. There are a number of names that matched, but…"

"Great. Let's get a warrant and go. C'mon Maura." Jane threw her napkin on her empty plate and reached over to pat her friend's hip, thrilled to finally have a few leads.

"Jane, these names include some high-profile doctors," cautioned Frost, his tone low. He knew he couldn't stop his partner when her mind was set—stubborn as she was—but he also knew he had to try. Some of these individuals were very well connected and they needed to tread lightly.

"Frost's right. Jane, some of these doctors and medical examiners are highly regarded in their fields and are often called upon to testify in court. Most of them have close working relationships and personal friendships with many of the judges and prosecutors in the state. We have no physical evidence that connects any of them with our murders."

"But what if…"

"I don't believe in sentences that start with 'what if' statements."

"Maura, you're scheduled to speak at a conference next week in DC. There are hundreds of registered participants. What if we don't catch this guy before then? We may be looking at more dead bodies." Jane didn't have to elaborate as she looked at Frost, the younger detective nodding in agreement and acknowledgment. Both were concerned that the blonde doctor would end up on her own slab in the morgue.

"You know, I see this all the time." Jane closed her eyes and groaned as her mother's voice cut through the conversation. The Italian woman was so loud but had perfected the skill of sneaking up behind her children. _She's got 30 years of practice meddling and snooping_¸ thought Jane. The detective turned around on her stool and rolled her eyes at her mother, who was passing Frost his breakfast sandwich across the café counter.

"What do you see all the time? Psychopaths stalking Maura?"

"Psychopathy is one of the most difficult disorders to identify. A psychopath can appear normal, but the individual will lack a conscience and empathy. They are manipulative, volatile, and oftentimes exhibit very high intelligence. The label of 'psychopath' is still one of significant controversy and debate because no major psychiatric or psychological organization has recognized 'psychopath' as a diagnosis."

Three sets of brown eyes stared at Maura and Jane spoke, without missing a beat, "Thank you, Dr. Phil."

"I see this all the time in movies. The detectives catch the villain by going undercover. You know, I'd make a really good police officer. I always know who the murderer is," Angela added, eager to be involved. "You should go undercover next week at Maura's conference and set a trap. I'm a really good actress, if you guys need some extra help."

_**1 day ago**_

"Frost is already on a flight to DC. He's been in touch with the tech guys at the DCPD and they're going to set up surveillance equipment in the conference hotel before guests start arriving. We covered the details and monitoring strategy earlier, but they're also included in the packet for reference. Everyone know their part? Any questions?" Cavanaugh finished his briefing to the task force. "We've got one shot at this. If our killer even suspects there's BPD at the conference, he may disappear and we might never catch him… or he may escalate and go after Dr. Isles. If there's nothing else—you're dismissed."

Maura wrinkled her nose as she watched Jane shove papers back into her folder. She glanced down at her own neatly stacked and highly annotated undercover briefing material. She was in awe of how a detective could be so disorganized, yet so aware of the smallest detail. It was a gift and one that never ceased to surprise her. At the beginning of their friendship, the doctor had made an off-hand comment about a small coffee shop near the BCU campus that made its own granola. A few weeks later, she spent the night at Jane's apartment after a particularly festive evening at the Dirty Robber. While looking for real coffee in the morning—none of the disgusting instant "coffee" that Jane seemed to prefer—Maura found that the detective's barren cabinets contained two items: expired cereal and a fresh bag of housemade granola from that small coffee shop.

"This is almost as bad as the time I had to go undercover as a prostitute. A reporter, great. Who do I look like, Lois Lane?" Jane pushed back from the table and stood up, grabbing her folder and using it to gesture in the air.

"It's a very smart idea. Many news publications have asked for permission to write a profile or feature story about my work. It's a highly plausible and believable explanation for why you'll be accompanying me to all the conference events. This is going to be so much fun! I'm registered for a workshop that will review the most accurate and effective methodologies for analyzing stomach contents."

Jane mimicked a vomiting motion as she held the door open for Maura. "I was wrong… this is so much worse than playing a prostitute."

_**Present**_

A whirlwind of commotion blew through the front door as Jane returned from loading luggage into the car. The dark brown curls were untamed and fell around her face in a way that cast a dangerous impression, but the mask quickly disappeared when deep chocolate eyes met hazel ones. "Maura, we're only gone for a week. Why do you need two checked bags and two carry-ons? Don't tell me your presentation includes a costume change. Oooh, is this really a magic show?"

"Magic isn't real."

"You like to crush dreams."

"Dreams are not physical objects that can be 'crushed.'"

The two continued to banter, almost forgetting Angela's presence. She was content to watch the exchange. The lines flew back and forth, easy and natural. The detective and the doctor moved toward each other, mirroring steps and meeting halfway in the living room. The cooling peppermint tea sat on the counter, an afterthought.

Jane's hand briefly brushed against Maura's waist as she turned and gently pushed the honey blonde toward the door. She followed close behind and Maura was keenly aware of the brunette's presence, especially when she leaned forward to whisper in the doctor's ear over her shoulder.

"Dr. Isles, let's go catch a killer."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: Apologies for how long it's taken to get this next chapter up. Demanding clients and pressing deadlines mean less time for whiskey and writing. Also, since no one reads these notes anyway-I would do a lot of inappropriate things right now for a scotch.****  
**

* * *

Julia greeted the passengers as they boarded the plane with the same overly enthusiastic smile and the same chipper "Welcome!" Many of the gentlemen and a few of the women responded to her presence with a bit of flirtation, but Julia was used to the attention. Her flight attendant uniform, though consistent with what the airline required, highlighted her fit body by wrapping tight in just the right places. With her blonde hair pulled back into a perfect bun and just a bit of make-up, Julia knew that there were probably a good number of passengers that fantasized about joining the Mile High Club with her. She never took them up on the offer while she was flying, but once the plane landed and she was off the clock… her smile grew a little bigger at the thought.

Julia welcomed a honey blonde who, judging by her current outfit, was probably flying first class. Julia's focus, however, was immediately pulled to the brunette behind her. Dark curls, olive-toned skin, and smoky eyes that seared sex with one look. She was tall, lean, and walked with a swagger that teetered between natural confidence and earned cockiness. Julia's blue eyes widened slightly and she licked her lips. Just looking at the woman stirred primal urges. The brunette made eye contact and smiled in acknowledgement, but it was reserved with no hint of desire. Julia liked hard to get. The attraction burned through her body and the flight attendant was distracted by the brief image flashing through her mind of what it would be like to renew her membership in the Mile High Club with this woman.

If Julia hadn't lost herself in that small fantasy, she may have noticed the brunette lightly place her hand on the small of the honey blonde's back, gently guiding her down the aisle. Julia may also have noticed the brunette help store the honey blonde's carry-on in the overhead bin. Or the honey blonde's hand on the brunette's waist as she was lifting the bag. Even if she had missed all those small gestures, there was no denying the lingering look the two exchanged as they bantered about the amount of luggage the honey blonde had brought along. The brunette teased playfully, the honey blonde responded patiently. But Julia was swept away by her inappropriate thoughts, her "Welcome" greeting floating from her mouth on autopilot. As such, she missed the entire exchange.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

The captain's voice crackled through the speakers as he announced that the flight crew was closing the cabin door and the plane was preparing for take-off. Jane's fingers dug into the armrests so hard her knuckles turned white and she was certain she was about to rip them free of the seat. Why couldn't they just have driven down to DC? Maura, of course, had wanted to fly because it was more logical and efficient. And what Maura wanted, Jane gave her.

Jane practiced her deep breathing in a rapidly failing effort to keep herself calm. _In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Inthroughthenoseoutthroughthemouth. I fucking hate flying._

Julia walked down the aisle to conduct the final cabin check, looking for buckled seat belts and secured tray tables. As she approached Jane, the two made eye contact and her blue eyes raked over Jane's body and paused on how tightly Jane was clinging to the armrests. There was her opening. Julia smiled, gaze drifting back over the detective's figure, and paused for a moment on her walk by to squat down and graze Jane's sleeve with perfectly manicured nails. Her fingers brushed over Jane's clenched hand, intending to give it a quick squeeze, but the detective jerked away.

Jane forced a weak smile and apologized for pulling away so abruptly. "Sorry, my hands are just a little sore. From volleyball."

The flight attendant, undeterred, skimmed her fingers over Jane's shoulder. "If you need anything to feel more comfortable on this flight, please let me know." Her smile came across more predatory than playful. She didn't waste any time making her interest known. "My name is Julia and I'm more than happy to do what I can to make this an enjoyable trip."

Jane nodded and gently thrust her chin toward the honey blonde in the window seat next to her. "Thanks. We'll be sure to let you know if there's anything we need."

When Julia finally moved away—though not before arching a brow and making it perfectly clear she didn't buy the "I'm with her" excuse—Jane leaned over and nudged Maura's shoulder with her own. Maybe one of Maura's boring history lessons could take her mind off her fear of flying.

"How did you convince Cavanaugh to let us fly first class? He won't even sign off on a coffee maker and those are what? Like 20 bucks."

"Oh, I arranged for the upgrade from coach. I prefer the quieter environment because it's more conducive to my review of these presentation notes. I also thought you'd appreciate the additional leg room, though I'm surprised you don't mind sitting in the front of the plane."

"Maura, you didn't have to pay for my seat upgrade. I like flying in coach… wait, why would I mind sitting in the front of the plane?" Jane asked, momentarily distracted by the safety video playing on the tiny television screen in front of her. She tried not to think of the fact that she was basically strapped inside a metal tube, barreling through the sky at hundreds of mile an hour, held up by empty air.

"Studies show that the safest place to sit in a plane is at the very back. Popular Mechanics studied every plane crash between 1971 and 2007, and found that the survival rate for passengers at the back of the plane was 69% compared to the 49% survival rate for those sitting in the front." Maura still hadn't looked up from her presentation notes, her pen drifting over the pages and making small edits and additions here and there. She continued, oblivious to how the color had started to drain from Jane's face. "Another study simulated a plane crash and scientists observed a force of 12G in the first class cabin upon impact. The first 11 rows were destroyed. Those in the very back of the plane would have been fine if their seat belts were properly secured."

"Uh... wow. So how much is 12Gs? That's like how fast a roller coaster goes, right?"

"A little bit faster. Apollo 16, upon reentering the Earth's atmosphere, reached approximately 7.2 G."

"Thanks Maura, that's very reassuring. I'm so glad I'll be traveling faster than a spaceship when I die." The slight tremor in Jane's voice immediately caught the doctor's attention. She finally tore her eyes from the words in front of her and observed the detective's panicked facial expression and tense body language. Smiling softly, she put her pen down and reached for Jane's hand, wrapping it between both of her own. Maura searched through the encyclopedia of facts in her brain, hoping she would find a few that would provide reassurance.

"Just follow the plus 3, minus 8 rule. 80% of plane crashes take place in the 3 minutes during takeoff or the final 8 minutes before landing. Stay awake and alert during those 11 minutes and you improve your chances of survival, though on average most passengers already have a 76.6% survival rate in a crash. I suppose that doesn't really apply to first class…"

Jane made a sound like she was choking and Maura stopped talking suddenly, shifting her hands. "You're exhibiting signs of distress as a result of your fear of flying. Eastern medicine often employs the use of acupressure to alleviate the symptoms of panic attacks and anxiety. The Shen Men pressure point should help." She cradled Jane's left-hand in one of her own and gently pressed her thumb to the inside of the detective's wrist, slowly beginning to rub back and forth. Jane's eyes closed and she leaned back against her seat, noticeably relaxing with each brush of Maura's thumb against her skin.

Maura never took for granted how Jane let her touch her hands or how Jane would hold Maura's hands without hesitation when she needed the comfort or the reassurance. The doctor continued her ministrations, letting her thumb press down for a longer period of time. Though she never took those moments for granted, she was also never surprised.

Jane took a deep breath, ignoring the drop in her stomach as the plane began to lift. Instead, she focused on how good her hand felt in Maura's. She paced her breathing to the rhythmic strokes of Maura's thumb on her wrist. As the light touch evolved into a gentle massage, Jane gave in to the exhaustion of the past few days. She felt fear's grip loosen and fall away from her.

Maura had developed a sixth sense for Jane and heard the detective's breathing change, despite the roar of jet engines and the conversations of other passengers. She felt the tension ease away from Jane's hand and knew that she had most likely fallen asleep. Maura bit down on her lower lip and leaned over, resting her head on Jane's shoulder, thankful that the detective was finally embracing much-needed rest. Honey waves of hair spilled down Jane's arm and tickled her cheek and Jane instinctively flexed her hands.

Noting the movement, Maura sat back up and started to lower Jane's hand into sleeping woman's lap. The plane dipped slightly due to turbulence and, though Jane didn't awaken, she wrapped Maura's hand in her own—fingers interlaced, palm to palm. Hazel eyes blinked slowly, registering how natural it felt and how their hands fit perfectly together. They were fire and ice. Jane's temper was soothed by Maura's rational and calm side, which kept fury from consuming her and—in more than one situation—kept her from a night in jail or an Internal Affairs investigation. Similarly, Jane's passion was the reason Maura had overcome so many of her reservations and tried so many things outside of her comfort zone. One cooled when the other burned, one warmed when the other froze. Fire and ice. Maura held onto Jane's hand a little tighter and turned back to her presentation notes.

Julia stopped to take another beverage order, but her question caught in her throat as she stared at the honey blonde's fingers tangled with the brunette's. The brunette was slouched in her seat, face turned toward the woman next to her. The honey blonde was focused on a stack of papers in front of her, flipping through the pages with her brow furrowed in concentration. It was such an intimate moment and Julia felt a biting regret that she wouldn't be taking the brunette home with her after all. She hesitated before turning away, progressing to the next row. Time to find Plan B.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

The figure had boarded the plane behind the Doctor and the Detective, watching the two interact. Sitting a few rows back, dark blue eyes observed in silence. The quiet masked a building rage, offended that the Doctor seemed unconcerned with the world around her. Apparently, two bodies weren't enough for her attention. Her disregard for those two gifts was a slap to the face. The Doctor was supposed to feel fear because she had finally met her match—a mind just as brilliant but even more twisted. Perhaps the Detective was more of a distraction and hindrance than originally thought. She was of little concern. Collateral damage.

The blonde flight attendant offered a drink, bending over and batting her long lashes. The same dark blue eyes that followed the Doctor and the Detective now trailed, unabashedly and openly, down the flight attendant's body and lingered on the soft curves. The blonde leaned over, knowing full well the view of her chest she was presenting. _You could probably push up that skirt and she'd probably like it_.

Maybe the Doctor needed one more body.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: Nothing is better on a Sunday morning than a long run... with a flask.  
**

**And for the people who responded to my request for pick-up lines (all two of you), thank you. Especially the really weird one. Probably the weirdest one I've ever heard of, and that's saying a lot.**

**I also can't decide if I should be flattered or offended that so many people are reading this story but not following or favoriting or reviewing. Let's not talk about it and agree that this is because your hands are too busy clapping.  
**

**Here's the next chapter. **

* * *

Frost stood on the sidewalk outside of the dimly lit bar that looked more South Boston than it did downtown DC. He had spent the past couple of days working with the DCPD tech team to set up the hidden cameras and microphones in the conference hotel. The team had worked around the clock to get all the equipment in place and the hotel had been more than accommodating (after a few legal threats, of course). Under the guise of maintenance and renovation employees, the techs were able to access every presentation room and workshop space, as well as the hallways and stairwells. Though the hotel had its own security system, Frost suspected it could be compromised—if it hadn't already.

He glanced down at his phone, scrolling through previous emails for the confirmation message from Detective Sam Preston. Sam was the lead contact point for the DCPD tech team, but had been out of town on an urgent family matter when Frost first arrived. The two had coordinated logistics entirely over email because that was the easiest way to reach Preston while the detective was traveling.

This Washington neighborhood seemed to shut down after regular business hours, so there were only a few people on the street. One in particular grabbed Frost's attention. Her brown hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Large, colorful earrings dangled from her ears. The only make-up she had on her face created a smoky illusion around her eyes, mysterious and a little raw. Her skin tone was tan and, by default, he cataloged her description in true police officer fashion—Hispanic female, approximately 5'6'', athletic build, between 30-35 years old. Frost's gaze then dropped and he forgot to breathe.

She wore a white v-neck shirt underneath a leather jacket, with the collar dropping dangerously low to the swell of her full breasts. Matchstick jeans wrapped around her legs like paint on skin, legs that seemed to stretch for miles. Black heels finished the outfit and she moved like a panther, smooth and fearless and with a certainty that she was at the top of evolutionary chain. By the time Frost remembered it wasn't polite to stare, the woman was a few feet away, watching him with an amused smile dancing across her lips.

"Detective Frost? I'm Samantha Preston."

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

The BPD Homicide team on this case had decided it would be safer for Maura and Jane to stay somewhere other than the conference hotel. With the event expected to attract large crowds, it was safer to limit Maura's exposure and vulnerability by having her stay at a location known only to the undercover team. Cavanaugh had produced a list of hotels that met the department's per diem rate, all of which were 3-star or lower. Maura, in typical fashion, had rattled off the statistic of hotel rooms that were contaminated with bodily fluids because of poor housekeeping or ineffective cleaning products. As a result, Jane found herself in the lobby of a luxury hotel next door to the White House.

"I'm sorry, there must be some mistake. These rooms are on different floors. We specifically requested that they either be next to each other or directly across from one another." Jane struggled to keep her voice low, wanting nothing more than to flash her badge to intimidate the man into giving her the accommodations she wanted.

"We're overbooked for the length of your visit and those are the last two rooms available. I apologize for any inconvenience, but here is a $20 credit for the mini bar…" the concierge started before he awkwardly trailing off under Jane's withering glare. The detective's nostrils flared and she pursed her lips together, her thoughts running amok in frustration and anger. _How the fuck am I supposed to watch Maura if we're on separate floors? If anything happens to her, so help me baby Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… what kind of foo-foo fancy hotel overbooks? What if someone goes after Maura and I'm not there? I'm going to find another fucking hotel._

Maura recognized the look on Jane's face and knew what was about to happen. She knew the detective was only trying to protect her, but if Jane continued pushing this point, the two of them would begin to raise suspicions for why it was so important and necessary to have rooms close together. Jane could inadvertently blow their cover.

Maura gently placed her hand on Jane's back, the heat of her body pressed against the taller woman's side. Jane lost her train of thought the moment the honey blonde stepped into her personal space, and Maura took that lapse in focus to politely interrupt the dialogue. "It's just so unexpected. I've stayed at your hotel locations around the world and each time the staff has gone above and beyond to fulfill my requests. That is perhaps why this is such a surprise, and I wouldn't say a pleasant one."

The concierge had seen a lot of characters come through the hotel doors, but very few—if any—had emerged with the poise and grace of the woman in front of him. She was beautiful and he had worked at the hotel long enough to know expensive clothes when he saw them. Her dress looked tailored to her body and presented temptation without revealing anything. She was unattainable desire and, as he watched her lips move when she talked, he understood that she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it.

"I understand Ms. Isles. We appreciate your continued loyalty, but these reservations came in last-minute and we just aren't able to…"

"I hope there are no issues with the reservations. I made them directly with Rafael and he assured me that everything would be taken care of prior to our arrival. He also promised me the utmost discretion and privacy regarding my stay." Maura finished with a smug expression that would have looked unbecoming on anyone else. On her, it looked so incredibly good… and bad – like she had just announced checkmate in a game of strip chess. That combined with Maura's physical proximity caused Jane to flush. She felt like her body was on fire.

The concierge swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry. Rafael was the general manager and he only personally handled the affairs of the hotel's VIP guests. "Rafael is a very busy man and I'm confident we can resolve this misunderstanding without his involvement. There is nothing I can do this evening, but first thing tomorrow morning, I'll take care of your room requests."

Maura nodded her thanks and turned away from the front desk. Jane immediately felt a sense of loss as the honey blonde stepped back. Then she felt Maura's fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, giving a gentle tug and urging Jane to follow. The detective threw one last warning look at the concierge, but there was no threat behind it. After that demonstration, they both knew Maura called the shots.

Maura, for her part, didn't need to look back over her shoulder to know Jane was right behind her as she entered the elevator.

"See, Jane, there's the easy way and then there's the hard way."

"Maura, there's nothing easy about you."

Maura let the compliment pull a smile from her lips, staring straight ahead as the elevator doors closed.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

"I had four older brothers. My parents had just about given up on ever having a little girl when I came along. Growing up, I was always one of the guys. Don't get me wrong, I loved my dolls and dresses and every other stereotypically pink toy for girls, but I watched everything my brothers did and I learned." Sam took another long drink from her glass and laughed at a memory, almost spitting beer all over the bar.

"This one time, my brothers had a few friends over and the boys were getting a little rowdy. I had tagged along with my Barbie and I asked to join. One of the kids told me, 'Girls don't wrestle.' He was twice my size and a few years older, and I felt so bad for him. My brothers set him up—told him to take it easy on me because I was a girl. They were laughing their asses off when I had this kid pinned to the ground. I refused to let him up until he had kissed my Barbie and apologized for hurting her feelings."

Frost found himself enjoying Sam's company more and more. They were the last two patrons and the bartender was making a show of shutting down and cleaning up.

"Sounds like you can hold your own."

"Oh, my brothers taught me everything. I am more than capable of handling larger men." Sam's eyes darkened as the last sentence slipped from her mouth. She knew Frost was watching her as she drained the last few drops from her beer with a soft moan, tongue slowly tracing her lower lip. "I really needed that drink… and all the ones before it."

Frost shook his head. This was going to lead to trouble. More specifically, Sam Markley was going to lead to trouble. "Funny, you were raised by men and I was raised by women."

"And they did a wonderful job." Sam read between the lines. She was an insightful person and she understood by Frost's body language what was hidden in his words. "Now that's one more thing that Boston and DC have in common: We both believe that the heart wants what the heart wants."

Frost gestured to the bartender for two last tequila shots. "I'll certainly drink to that."

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

She felt trapped, immobile. She needed to get free. Needed to get to Maura.

Jane woke suddenly, eyes blinking furiously as they adjusted to the dark. She felt the sweat dripping down her chest and knew it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. The sheets were tangled around her body and just another reminder of how restless her nights had been since they found the scarecrow.

She never remembered the details of her dreams, but she didn't need the images to understand the feeling. Jane kicked free of the sheets and swung her legs off the bed. Out of habit, she knew she wasn't going to fall back asleep. The red numbers on the alarm clock read 4:51. She didn't bother turning on the lights.

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face. She refused to look in the mirror.

She walked back towards the bed, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and turning on the morning news. Her fingers deftly pulled the hairband from around her wrist and tied dark curls into a tight ponytail. The television anchors joked with one another. Jane dropped to the ground and started her push-ups. She never counted. She always repeated until her arms collapsed.

A few minutes later, Jane happened to glance up at the screen. As soon as the picture of the blonde woman appeared, Jane frantically searched for the remote she had so carelessly tossed on the bed. Her thumb held down the volume button, barely hearing the reporter over the drumming of her heartbeat.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Maura sat at the desk in her hotel room, staring at her annotated presentation notes. Nothing registered. She'd been sitting in the same spot for the past half hour. She hadn't slept through the night since she first found the _Kuebiko_ connection. Instead, her body fell into a routine.

Go to bed. Feel the burden of responsibility for two deaths. Slow her thoughts enough to fall asleep. Wake up in the exact same position. Stare at the ceiling and wonder if someone else will die today because of her work.

The only time guilt didn't bear down on her shoulders was when she was with Jane. The detective lifted the weight and kept it from crashing back down, like Atlas holding the sky.

Maura's phone vibrated, signaling an incoming call. "Jane Rizzoli" flashed on the screen and Maura answered before the second ring.

"Maura, make sure the deadbolt is locked on your door. Stay away from windows and wait for me. Do not open the door or make a sound until you can see me through the peephole."

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Jane's lungs burned, but she pushed through the pain. Adrenaline blazed through her veins, fueling her legs as she sprinted up the stairs toward Maura's room. The cold metal of her gun, tucked into the back of her pajama pants, kept her grounded in reality. The killer had followed them to DC.

It was still early and the hotel was booked, an innocent bystander sleeping in every room. Jane couldn't risk causing a commotion and drawing people out and into the crossfire. Deep breath, steady. She recited the same prayer she used in the morgue, and eased the stairwell door open.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Maura trusted Jane with her entire being and followed the detective's directions without question. She sat on the edge of the bathtub. It was the only seat out of view of the windows. Her hands clutched her cell phone—it was her only lifeline until Jane arrived. Each passing second lasted forever. Though Maura knew the laws of physics meant that phenomenon was impossible, she could have sworn at that moment that time physically slowed down.

Two quick knocks. Maura jumped and bit down on her tongue to keep from crying out loud in surprise. No announcement followed the sounds. Just the echo of silence. Maura gripped her phone, thumb sliding over the screen to her list of recent calls, hovering over Jane's number. Her bare feet padded quietly across the tile floor. She approached the door, irrationally sure that whoever was on the other side could hear her rapid breathing, the pounding of her heart, the thunder of her feet against the carpet. Once close enough to the door, she leaned forward, holding her breath and peeking through the peephole. Jane.

When Jane heard the deadbolt pull back, she exhaled. When she saw hazel eyes peer at her from around the door, she felt a wave of relief wash over her and she thanked any and all of the gods above—from every religion—for keeping Maura safe. She charged forward and immediately swept the honey blonde into her arms, pushing the door closed behind her. Maura dropped her phone and locked the deadbolt before digging into Jane's back.

The two women stood still in their embrace, drawing strength from one another. Jane closed her eyes and inhaled Maura's scent, memorizing every nuance of her smell. It was a Pavlovian response—that scent would always bring Jane a sense of calm and comfort. Maura buried her face in Jane's shirt, fingers bunching the material in her fists. She listened to the steady rhythm of Jane's heartbeat—steady, safe, and a harbor for her even during the most furious storms in her life. Neither wanted to let go.

Jane finally moved, primarily because she remembered she still had her gun drawn. Tucking it back into the waistband of her pants, her fingers grazed under Maura's chin and lifted her head. Brown met hazel. Both spoke at once.

"Are you ok?" "What's going on?"

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Jane pulled the curtains shut as Maura turned on the television, changing channels until she came across the morning news. Jane automatically moved back to Maura's side, arm wrapping around her waist. Maura reflexively turned into the protection of Jane's touch.

DCPD had found a body early this morning. Though authorities were not releasing any details, a source confirmed that the victim had been positively ID'd as Julia Thornton. The picture on the screen was from her employee records at the airline. The blonde haired, blue eyed flight attendant was dead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: Thanks to some poor editing on my part, a few of you picked up on a spoiler in the last chapter. That should now be corrected, but I figured I might as well get this chapter up sooner rather than later.  
**

**I also listened to "I Choose You" off Sara Bareilles's newest album the other day and immediately thought of #Rizzles. That whole album is ridiculously good.**

**As for this story: Remember, the devil is in the details.**

* * *

_**An hour after landing in DC**_

Enjoying Julia had been an added and unexpected benefit. The blonde woman had been insatiable and it was a shame she had to die in the throes of her orgasm. The unforgiveable need to feel both pain and pleasure had drawn them together in the backseat of a car, tucked in a dark corner of the airport parking garage. It hadn't taken long. They didn't bother removing clothes. It was rough and demanding and driven by immediate gratification. Julia enjoyed her sex a little on the wild side. She felt an added euphoric rush when hands closed around her throat. She never expected a little choking to devolve into throttling. As the life drained from her blue eyes, the figure hovered over her mouth, inhaling her last gasp for air.

Tick tock, tick tock.

Time was of the essence and, unfortunately, discovery of the body was more important than presentation. Pity. Such beautiful, empty blue eyes. It would have been so much more convenient if they'd been hazel.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Maura packed as quickly as she could, pulling clothes off their hangers and shoving them into her suitcases. Though wearing a wrinkled dress was incredibly distracting, she believed there was always a time and a place for exceptions. Having a crazed serial killer stalk her was one example.

Julia's body had been found in Rock Creek Park. She had been strangled and there were no defensive wounds or other mutilations on her body. There was absolutely nothing to suggest that this victim had anything to do with the two back in Boston. Jane had built a career on the basic principle that there are very few coincidences when it comes to murder. It was the killer welcoming them to DC.

Jane stood by the door, watching the hallway through the fish lens peephole. She kept her hand on the grip of her firearm, ready to draw and pull the trigger the moment danger presented itself. Protocol required her to ask questions first and shoot later, but Jane refused to be polite and take that chance with Maura's life on the line. Every now and then, she turned to watch Maura as if she was afraid the doctor would disappear when she wasn't looking.

Maura moved methodically and collected her toiletries, putting each item in its rightful place inside her traveling case. She still preferred order in the midst of this chaos. Packing was the only thing she had control over right now and running through the checklist in her head kept her hands from trembling.

Jane reluctantly pulled away from the door and lifted a bag, slinging the leather strap over her shoulder. She then grabbed the handle of one of the larger suitcases and rolled her eyes, hissing, "Really? You needed four bags for this trip. What, is one full of shoes?"

Maura chose not to dignify that question with an answer and took a hold of her remaining luggage.

"Seriously?" Jane exhaled sharply. "We're literally going to die over shoes."

Maura narrowed her eyes and stepped toward the door. Jane tilted her head at the noticeable absence of the _click-click_ that usually accompanied Maura's movements. "Speaking of shoes… where are yours?"

"I only brought heels and I doubt wearing them will contribute to a successful escape."

"We're actually going to die because of your stupid shoes. Why couldn't you collect something lighter, like stamps? We'll talk about this later." The implications of the word "later" were not lost—"later" promised a future with both of them alive. The teasing eased some of the tension and the women exchanged a small smile. Jane took one last peek through the fish lens, drew her gun, and opened the door.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Frost's phone buzzed and he groped blindly for it, knocking over the alarm clock. Squinting at the message through one barely open eye, he read the text.

_Bass can't be alone. Should stay with Jo Friday. Can you ask my Brother to stop by and check on them?_

Frost was suddenly very much awake. Prior to leaving Boston, he, Korsak and Jane had agreed on how to communicate without leaving an easy paper trail. Phones could be tapped, texts could be intercepted, emails could be hacked. Each person was assigned a codename and all messages were to appear harmless and insignificant, just in case. Maura was Bass, Jane was Jo Friday, Frost was Big Brother, and Korsak was Neighbor. Translated, Jane's text read: _Maura can't be alone. She's staying with me. Need you to come now._

Frost wiped the sleep from his eyes and climbed out of bed, searching through the clothes on the floor for his pants. Underneath his discarded shirt, Frost found a pair of lacey black panties that were decidedly not his. He almost groaned as memories from the evening before played back in his mind. This meant that when Sam left a few hours ago, she hadn't been wearing anything under those obscenely tight jeans.

Frost shook the thought away as he pulled his shirt over his head. He needed to get to the hotel.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

"Jane, this is really all you brought?" Maura stood in front of the closet, hands on her hips. Jane's two suits hung crookedly; one black and one… more black. Maura's outfits took up the remaining space with barely an inch to spare.

Jane shrugged her shoulders, pointing at her half-opened suitcase. "I also brought a few more shirts, some socks, I think a pair of running shoes."

Jane's hotel room was three floors below Maura's and the reservation was held under her alias. The room bait-and-switch provided another obstacle for the killer, but there was no guarantee that Maura could be found through other measures. For now, this would have to do.

After locking the door, Maura had started to unpack her dresses, clucking her tongue and commenting on each wrinkle. Jane watched in amused fascination as the doctor ironed, steamed, and organized. Maura hung her outfits based on the day she planned to wear each one, the matching pairs of shoes lined perfectly on the closet floor. It was a forgone conclusion that any and all remaining free space—from empty drawers to the bathroom sink counter—would be filled with Maura. Jane resigned herself to living out of her carry-on for the next week.

Jane sat down on the bed, fighting against the fog of exhaustion that trickled into the corners of her mind. She couldn't afford to feel tired, especially because Maura's safety depended on her mental acuity and physical reaction. Maybe she could just close her eyes for a few minutes. Jane laid back, feeling the mattress adjust to fit every contour of her body. It felt so relaxing. Maura was in the room, the door was deadbolted and locked, Frost was on his way. _Just a power nap, everything will be fine. She's too busy talking to her clothes anyway. Five minutes, tops._

Maura continued to bustle around the room, noticing how there was evidence of Jane everywhere. The detective's toothbrush lay perched on the edge of the sink. There were no toiletries or make-up, just opened complimentary bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in the shower. A single used towel thrown carelessly in the corner. Her practical boots had been shucked off at the foot of the bed, clothes from the night before tossed over the back of the sofa.

Maura shook her head slightly, appreciating each small proof of Jane's presence. She brushed the honey blonde waves back from her face and started to pick up after her best friend, folding worn clothes and transferring the items in Jane's luggage to the drawer Maura had intentionally left free. She kept her movements as quiet as possible, not wanting to startle Jane from her well-deserved slumber.

Once the room looked to her satisfaction, the doctor crawled onto her 'side' of the bed. She didn't know when or how they had fallen into the routine of sleeping in these positions, but she had figured out early on—with some surprise—that if the two slept facing one another, they could each reach out with their dominant hand. A smile played at her lips. She would never confess to it, but she'd used that discovery to her advantage more than a few times.

She sat propped up against the headboard, legs extended in front of her and crossed at the ankles. Maura was never one to spend her free time watching television, but she found herself flipping through the channels because they brought a sense of sanity to the situation. The world was not falling apart. Programs ran as they were scheduled. Headline news broadcasted international tragedies and tribulations. For so many people outside that hotel room, it was just another day.

Jane stirred, drawing Maura's attention. The detective began to shift, her lips moving wordlessly and her fingers slowly curling into fists. Without hesitation, Maura reached over and placed her hand on top of Jane's head. The detective immediately stilled. As her hand began to stroke, fingers gently combing through the halo of brown curls, Maura watched Jane's face relax and her hands fall open.

Maura knew about Jane's nightmares and her restless nights. She had known since the first night they'd fallen asleep in the same bed; Jane occasionally talked in her sleep. Originally Maura thought it was Hoyt. Jane fought her own demons and Maura could always tell by the darkness in Jane's eyes whether or not she was winning.

The first time Maura touched Jane, she had meant to wake the brunette. However, Jane stopped struggling the moment the doctor's fingers kissed her shoulder. The second time Maura touched Jane, it was because she understood. It was in the midst of another nightmare and Maura had awoken to Jane's strangled whisper of "… not her."

Every time they shared a bed, Maura would find herself reaching for Jane in the middle of the night. Her arm would stretch across the space between them and she'd softly lay a hand on the detective's head, shoulder, arm, waist, hip, back… whatever she could reach. Maura never broached the subject during daylight hours. She suspected Jane had caught her once or twice, but the two never talked about it. Like so many other nuances of their relationship, it had unspoken meaning.

Maura's phone beeped and Jane's buzzed. Frost was in the lobby.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Sam walked into the meeting room, tracking device in hand, "Detective Frost, can you explain what is so urgent that you need me here at 6:30 in the morning? Why couldn't you tell me you needed this last night?"

Jane arched a brow as her head whipped around to face Frost. _Last night? _Frost avoided eye contact.

Sam paused in the doorway, finally registering the additional guests. Her eyes skimmed quickly over Jane, but lingered for an extra moment on Maura. She threw her hands in the air and exclaimed, "Well, I'll be damned. Maura Dorthea Isles. To what do I owe this great pleasure?"

Maura laughed and the two women approached each other for a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Frost and Jane exchanged stunned expressions, both confused how these two very different characters could be on such friendly terms. "Friendly." Both BPD detectives noticed with some discomfort that neither Maura nor Sam made the effort to separate, choosing to stand rather close to one another.

"Detectives Rizzoli and Frost, this is Samantha Preston Markley."

Frost felt nauseous. "Sam Markley. As in Markley Technologies?"

"Holy shit." Jane breathed, eyes widening. Markley Technologies was one the largest privately-held defense contractors in the world. The company held security and weapons technology patents worth billions of dollars. Their products probably armed half the world's military forces. The four eldest Markley children had taken over the company when their father passed away, aggressively expanding the Markley sphere of influence through international mergers and acquisitions. The fifth child stayed out of the limelight and the family business, choosing instead to lead the family's charitable organization. The Markley Fund and the Isles Foundation were known philanthropic partners, often co-sponsoring the same large fundraisers.

The stunned silence drew on until it evolved into an awkward moment. No one really quite knew what to say after that. Sam stared at Maura. Maura stared at Jane. Jane stared at Frost. Frost stared at the wall. "And this is why I use my mother's maiden name," Sam quipped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: Oh, that's lovely. Please, keep trolling this story. Just read and don't favorite/review/follow. **

**That's the way I like it, apparently. **

**I wrote part of the next chapter while slightly drunk on a plane. Just something for you all to look forward to.**

* * *

Maura fiddled with the pin on her collar. It was so garish and not an accessory she would ever choose for herself, but it contained a tracking device and Jane had insisted she wear it the whole conference. Sam had shown Jane and Frost how to use their receivers to find Maura's location to an accuracy within 50 feet. The justification was that it would help them keep an eye on the doctor if she and Jane were separated in the conference crowd. But for Jane, the tracking device was a precautionary measure—if the killer was bold enough to try and take Maura, Jane wouldn't lose valuable time. _Time better spent beating his face in_, she thought.

The two were walking to breakfast alone. Frost had found an excuse to stay behind; Sam needed to run through one last visual and sound check, and Frost had predictably volunteered to assist. Meanwhile, the city had come alive. Federal employees trekked in from the Washington suburbs every morning, turning empty streets into standstill gridlocked traffic. DC was also home to nonprofits, law firms, think tanks, lobbyists, and aid organizations. It was a city of dreamers and realists; of people looking to change the world and people working to enforce the status quo. It was a city that proved opposites can thrive together. How fitting that it was the same city that would prove Jane and Maura, opposites in so many ways, were actually the perfect fit.

"So, how did you and Sam meet? Through a fundraiser to save some endangered turtle?" Jane's voice was hoarser and lower than usual. Maura had to step a little closer to hear her.

"Actually, Garrett introduced us," Maura stated without elaboration, as if she had just made a comment about the weather. Jane stiffened at the mention of his name and slowed her pace, but Maura threaded her arm through the detective's and tugged her along. After a block, Maura still hadn't let go. Their strides matched, step for step. The physics of Jane's long legs and Maura's heels should have resulted in Jane constantly walking faster than Maura. However, at every crime scene, every night at the Dirty Robber, every lunch date, and every march to the morgue, they walked together. Independently, their natural rhythms operated at different metrics. Together, they fell in sync.

"Oh yeah?" Jane's voice was still hoarse, but now it had more to do with Maura's touch than her lack of sleep.

"Garrett's brother and Sam's brothers were very good friends, so it was only natural that he should introduce the two of us."

"Only natural, of course… as natural as a Fenway Frank." Maura frowned at the edgy tone and started to pull away, but Jane mumbled an apology and held tight. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired. Fenway Franks are more natural and delicious than your quinoa, anyway. And then what? You guys became BFFs?"

"Chenopodium quinoa, a species of goosefoot that is related to spinach and tumbleweeds. Did you know quinoa originated in the Andean region of Central and South America? It is often viewed as a superfood because it's a source of protein, dietary fiber, phosphorus, magnesium, and iron. Quinoa also contains calcium and is gluten-free. NASA is actually considering quinoa as a possible crop in the space program's Controlled Ecological Life Support System."

"Growing tumbleweeds in space? If that's NASA's big plan, how did we ever land a man on the moon?" Jane couldn't help the small chuckle that pulled from her throat. Though she would mock Maura relentlessly for her endless knowledge on the most trivial of topics, she was the only one allowed to do so. Maura could talk about goosefeet or goosepoop to anyone in the BPD and they would know better than to cut her off. That message had been delivered loud and clear the last time someone breathed "Queen of the Dead" within Jane's earshot.

"I didn't particularly care for Sam when we first met. I thought she was pretentious and quite rude. I almost said no when she asked if I would help her host a benefit to raise money for arts scholarships."

"Maura, you don't know how to say 'no'—except when it involves guessing. You're not programmed to let people down."

"I said, 'I almost said no.' Pay attention, Jane," Maura nudged her shoulder against Jane, teasing the detective. "The scholarships were actually in her mother's name. Sam's mother was killed by a drunk driver when she was a child. We bonded over the fact that both our mothers were artists that we admired and wanted to emulate. We also bonded over the heartache that we'd never have the relationships we wanted with our mothers, albeit for incomparable reasons."

Maura spent the rest of the conversation reliving memories and sharing aspects of her friendship with Samantha Markley, with very little encouragement from Jane. The brunette listened and tried to sift through the conflicting emotions racing in her chest. Sam sounded like a great friend, but Jane was a little surprised by how close Sam and Maura apparently were. Family was not a topic Maura openly chatted about with casual acquaintances. The detective considered herself Maura's best friend, but from the stories Maura was telling, it sounded like Sam was a pretty close second.

As they approached the restaurant, Jane realized a good amount of time had passed since she last said something. Jane nodded a "Mhm" to imply that she was still paying attention. The doctor didn't notice. Maura was engrossed in a tale about how Sam once charmed a diplomat into donating $10,000. Jane swallowed and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach—maybe _she_ was the pretty close second.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Jane fiddled with her glasses, adjusting the thick black frames resting on the bridge of her nose. Static crackled as Frost's voice spoke through the earpiece, loud and clear. "Jane, stop moving. We can't get a good look at the crowd if you keep fidgeting."

"I wouldn't need to fidget if you didn't make me wear Poindexter glasses," muttered the undercover detective, clenching her teeth and forcing a smile for anyone who was watching. "Didn't you guys already set up cameras everywhere?"

"They give us a view of all the rooms, but there are still a few blind spots. We need to see what you and Korsak see, especially because both of you will be in such close proximity to Dr. Isles. Just do what you normally do and follow her around." Frost's tone turned playful at the end and Jane heard Korsak's deep snicker.

"Ha. Ha. Real funny, assholes. How'd the rest of sound check go this morning? Sounds like you guys didn't finish everything you needed to last night."

"Oh, Detective Rizzoli, thank you for your concern but I finished just fine." Sam responded, voice smooth and rich like syrup. Korsak stifled his laughter by feigning a coughing fit. Jane mimed vomiting in her mouth, knowing that Frost and Sam could see her on camera.

Maura tried valiantly to multitask. She could hear the dialogue in her ear and see Jane in her peripheral vision, but she was in the middle of a riveting pathology discussion with colleagues. She was worried. Ever since breakfast, Jane had seem withdrawn and distant. Maura had witnessed this behavior when the detective no longer wanted to interact with other people, but she'd never experienced it herself. Jane had always been forthcoming and honest; she might change the subject or make light of it, but she never hid. Not from Maura.

Maura's brow crinkled and Jane immediately recognized that facial expression—however brief it was— before Maura forced a faint smile. Something was upsetting the honey blonde. Jane moved through the crowd with silent focus. If Frost and Sam were watching her camera feed from the surveillance room, they'd notice that Jane's gaze never wavered.

Maura sensed Jane's approach and turned her body slightly to welcome the detective into the conversation. A genuine and elated grin spread across her face as their eyes met and said what their mouths couldn't.

_Hi. You ok?_

_Thank goodness you're here. Can you extract me from this conversation?_

"Dr. Isles, may I borrow you for a moment? It's time for your interview," Jane asked, before extending her hand in greeting to Maura's pathology colleagues. "I'm Jane, a reporter for the Boston Dispatch."

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me. I look forward to finishing this discussion later." Maura fought the urge to reach for Jane's hand as the detective led her toward an empty corner of the room. Maybe they were spending too much time together. Maura hated that thought and felt sick at the idea, but it made sense. Normally, Jane spent the majority of her workday with Frost and Korsak. In Boston, she was distracted by Angela's meddling and Tommy's baby mama drama.

Jane turned and it only took one glance at Maura's face for her to double-take. The detective pushed her glasses up to rest on top of her thick brown curls, aiming the camera lens directly at the ceiling. She discretely palmed her earpiece and gestured for Maura to do the same.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"You're not ok. What's really going on?"

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Korsak looked over the rim of his glasses at the doctor and the detective, sipping his coffee and pretending to flip through the conference program. He had been partners with Jane for a long time, but there was a side of her that he knew he would never be privy too because of all the walls she had built. Detective Jane Rizzoli was tough as nails and mean as a snake, and she had proven her reputation true on more than one occasion. But Jane was a different person when Maura was around. Korsak couldn't describe what 'different' meant, but Jane was… softer. That wasn't the right word. It was almost like Jane was tamed. They were the answer to the paradoxical, "What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?" Balance.

The two had to figure it out for themselves, though Korsak hoped the timing would coincide with this week in DC. If it did, he'd win the office pool.

"Korsak, what's going on? We just lost visual and Jane and Dr. Isles are both not responding to verbal cues," Frost quickly spoke. He switched between cameras in the room to try to find the pair and cursed himself for giving Jane a map of the surveillance layout. The detective had used it to her advantage by guiding the doctor to a blind spot.

"They're talking. I didn't see anyone follow them, no one's exhibiting suspicious behavior. What do your eyes in the skies see?" Korsak took another sip of his coffee, using the cup to shield the movement of his lips as he spoke.

Frost's cell phone buzzed against his hip. He looked at the caller ID and his face turned hard. Excusing himself, Frost left Sam to direct the rest of the team so he could take the call.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Jane looked startled and taken aback. She had no quick response, no smartass retort, no comeback. "You thought I was tired of spending time with you?"

The incredulity in that question seared a blush across Maura's cheeks. On one hand, she was relieved that her hypothesis was wrong. On the other, she was embarrassed that she had been so off-base. Jane reached for Maura's hands, holding them in her own and waiting until hazel eyes finally locked with hers. Both of them relied on their hands in their professions, but Jane's were calloused and scarred. Maura's were soft and precise. Both were steady and firm. The dark-haired detective offered the most reassuring smile she could, choosing her words carefully. Independence was a trait the doctor prided herself on and it took a lot to admit her fears just now. Maura didn't have many close relationships, and Jane could only imagine what it was like to feel as if your best friend was pulling away.

"Maura, I will never get tired of spending time with you. Though, I'd prefer to be eating pizza and drinking beer right now instead of tracking a killer obsessed with you…"

"You really should introduce more greens into your diet."

"Thank you, Weight Watchers. Maura, I will _never_ get tired of spending time with you. Do you understand that?" Jane's brown eyes searched Maura's, waiting for comprehension and pleading with her to grasp the implicit meaning of her words. Maura laughed and fiercely embraced Jane.

Korsak watched the two fall together and gave a subtle fist pump.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

The four gathered in a hallway outside the hotel kitchen, standing in a blind spot away from cameras and microphones. Frost's text had used a designated keyword that meant emergency. Korsak and Frost had arrived 5 minutes apart. Jane and Maura took a longer path, winding through hallways and stairwells, with Jane constantly checking over their shoulders. Frost cleared his throat.

"I asked a good buddy of mine to watch the hotel's security system for anything out of the ordinary. He just called to tell me recent activity triggered a warning flag. Someone hacked into the hotel's guest list and searched for Dr. Isles. This same person also installed a backdoor that directs the hotel's security camera feeds to an offsite server. My buddy is trying to track down the location, but the signal is routed through points around the world. Whoever this guy is… he's wicked smart and he wants to find Maura when she's alone."


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: I really hope all the characters make it through this story alive. Maybe I'll pull a Red Wedding.  
**

**I'm not sure what that is, but according to everyone on the Internet it was a huge betrayal full of dungeons and dragons.**

**I don't watch Game of Thrones. I didn't even know it wasn't a sports movie until last week. **

**And for those who asked, Johnnie Walker Black.**

* * *

Spencer's thick glasses reflected the soft glow from multiple computer screens. His fingers danced across the keyboard and typed out a complicated string of letters, part of a larger code he was using to find this mysterious woman. Spencer was retired CIA, a former spook and tech geek that had turned his fascination with computers into a lucrative career hacking countries deemed threats to national security by his superiors. Over time, he realized that individuals with his skills and his expertise could make a better living as a hired virtual gun, providing services to the highest bidder. But Spencer was very expensive and almost impossible to find without referrals from existing clients. Imagine his surprise when a large manila envelope with cash and a burner phone was delivered to him via personal courier a few days ago.

Spencer had double and triple counted the money. He'd checked to ensure the bills were real and that the serial numbers weren't flagged in the Federal Reserve's system as part of a missing or stolen batch. Though this amount wasn't the most he'd ever made from a job, his interest was certainly peaked.

An hour after the courier's drop-off, the disposable cell phone rang. A robotic and distorted voice spoke, slow and disjointed. Spencer deduced it was a recording, possibly using text-to-voice software to hide the real person's voice and to prevent Spencer from stripping away the audio masks. Clever.

The cash, $10,000 to be exact, was to compensate him for his time. He did not have to return the money, even if he chose not to accept the proposition. However, if he did agree to the terms and if he successfully acquired what the client wanted, there'd be an additional $40,000 delivered to him in similar fashion. The message ended with two options: press 1 if he was willing to do it or press 2 if he wanted to walk away clean with 10k. Spencer pushed 1.

In theory, the request was relatively simple: Find Dr. Maura Isles.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Frost walked back into the surveillance room, apologizing for his abrupt departure. Sam greeted him with an icy glare, holding his gaze steady as she spoke with a dangerous edge in her tone and ordered the tech team to take a coffee break. As soon as the door swung shut, she crossed her arms over her chest and used her heeled foot to kick Frost's chair towards him. The seat slid across the floor.

"Let's cut the bullshit. You step out to take an emergency call. Moments later, Detective Rizzoli and Maura disappear. My on-the-ground eyes all of sudden go blind and all four of you turn off your earpieces. Don't you dare box me out on this one, Barry." Sam's voice was firm and determined, without a hint of the rage that flashed in her eyes. She crossed her legs, one knee over the over, and arched a brow while waiting for his response.

Frost held her gaze, refusing to look away and steeling himself for this confrontation. He knew where his loyalties lay. Trust was an earned privilege, not a given right, and Jane and Maura had given just as much of their blood as their sweat to earn a little peace of mind.

"I always took you for the strong and silent type. But let me remind you that your team reached out to DCPD and asked for our help. You checked our equipment and you ran background checks on everyone who sits in this room. If you don't trust us, just let me know because otherwise you're just wasting our fucking time." Sam suddenly pushed up from her chair and brushed past Frost, hands closing around the doorknob. She paused for a moment, thinking of the right words to use. Sam had spent her entire career fighting for respect and recognition in a field and industry dominated by strong male personalities, and doing so without the added benefit of her family name. She knew how to use her femininity to her advantage just as much as she understood how to keep others from underestimating her as just another pretty face. She was an heiress who had made her way to detective in one of the toughest cities in the country, not an easy feat. Part of how Samantha Markley had succeeded was an unforgettable lesson learned from her father—she knew when to pick her battles and when to walk away.

"My coffee cup is on the table. That should give you DNA and my clean prints. Don't forget that Maura is my friend, too. You have my number if you need me." And with that, she was gone.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

The pair sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, staring silently through the darkness at the Washington Monument. The surface of the reflecting pool shimmered beneath the night sky, inky black water shifting with the barest encouragement from the breeze.

Jane had wanted them to stay bunkered in the hotel room, but Maura insisted they see the monuments. They had fought, something they rarely did. Both women were near their breaking points and the fight was just as much about exhaustion and frustration as it was about leaving the hotel. Their voices escalated and their tempers flared until they were shouting in each other's faces, inches apart. At one point, Jane's brown eyes darted towards the door and Maura recognized what was about to happen. Jane was going to run.

Maura struggled to hide the hurt and disappointment, tilting her chin up defiantly and speaking with more confidence than she truly felt, "Do it."

Jane glanced at the door again, but she didn't move. They were at a precipice in their relationship and the brunette understood that there was no turning back after her next decision. If she ran, Maura would forgive but she'd never forget. They would slide back into their familiar roles as friends—nothing but friends. They had spent too long waiting at this impasse in their friendship, teetering on the edge of something neither could explain. It was a case study in game theory. If one admitted to feeling more and the other did not, the relationship would be irrevocably damaged. They may never recover. If both admitted to feelings, they would receive the highest payoff. If neither broached the subject, they would lose nothing. For two women who meant everything to each other without knowing it, the last option was the only safe bet.

This case had forced Jane to change perspective and pushed her to admit that she had spent the past few years "getting over" the Chief Medical Examiner. Though Maura had looked Death in the face a handful of times, the specter had never chased and pursued her with such vicious determination. This was the first time Jane faced the constant looming threat of losing Maura. The detective wasn't dumb. She knew that her reactions in certain situations were symptoms of deeper feelings, but she always ignored the justification. She was hot-headed, impulsive, demanding, and this was a scenario where she could be none of those things. Jane couldn't risk forcing Maura into a decision either of them would later regret, especially under current pressures. Jane pushed away and created distance to give Maura choice. As for Jane, she didn't need time or space; she'd always known.

To Maura's surprise, Jane stayed rooted to the ground. The detective closed her eyes and whatever willpower Maura had left faded away. Before her brain could register her actions and think through the consequences, she pressed a hand against Jane's cheek, thumb softly brushing over smooth skin. The moments where Jane let down her guard and hesitantly exposed vulnerabilities in her armor were occasions that took Maura's breath away. These moments belied a level of intimacy that even Maura, with her limited experience, knew were not common in most friendships. The honey blonde felt special, as if Jane had entrusted her with a secret that bonded them in that knowledge. She loved that feeling.

Instinctively, with her eyes still closed, Jane inhaled deeply leaned into the doctor's touch. The ferocity of their argument had fizzled, yet they were still standing mere inches apart. Maura placed her lips against Jane's cheek, a lingering and sweet kiss that set the detective's blood on fire and her heart racing.

Two words, barely whispered in her ear, were all it took for Jane to cave and agree to the monuments. "Thank you."

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Frost and Korsak sat at the bar with a stool between them. They spoke, but never once looked at each another. Strangers watching the game.

"The only good thing about the paparazzi following you when you're rich and famous is that you've always got an alibi. Based on the tabloids, she wasn't even in the same city."

"Something's off. You weren't in the room this morning. It was like she wasn't all that surprised to see Dr. Isles, even though we withheld her name during the DCPD briefing. It was too cozy, too friendly."

"What? You're saying the doc isn't friendly? She's a little odd sometimes, but she's not that bad."

"Korsak, when was the last time you saw or even heard of Dr. Isles being friendly with a woman who wasn't Jane? Do you even know if she has other female friends?"

Silence.

"Fine, I'll give you that. Are you running the prints?"

"And DNA. Priority request."

"Good."

Both men drank from their beers, eyes still glued to the television screen mounted against the wall behind the bar.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Spencer's screen flickered. He paused, eyes narrowing. _Impossible_.

His screen flickered again and his computer stopped responding to his keystrokes. Someone had hacked into his system, slipping past all the security measures and alarms he had in place. Spencer's files and his server were further protected, but it'd only be a matter of time before the hacker got to those as well. He readied his killswitch, willing to destroy everything. He could always rebuild.

His screen went black and, one-by-one, letters appeared.

_eenie meenie minie mo_

_catch a doctor by her toe_

_if you find her, let her go_

Spencer flipped the switch and shut it all down. Now it was personal.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Jane nudged Maura's shoulder with her own, tilting her head toward the Washington Monument. The obelisk stood like a beam of light, the white stone a sharp contrast against the night. "You've always known everything about everything. Did you ever want to be president when you were a kid?"

"At George Washington's eulogy, he was referred to as 'first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of countrymen.' I never forgot that statement. President Washington is also the only president to ever have received 100 percent of the electoral votes." Maura continued to appreciate the view, tracing every outline and detail to her memory. No photograph could do this justice.

"It all makes sense now. Little Maura Isles, who got perfect on every test she took, didn't want to run for president because she wouldn't get 100 percent of the electoral vote."

Maura wrinkled her nose and snuck her arm around Jane's, fingers splayed along the detective's forearm. "I never said I got perfect on every test."

"You never denied it."

"One time, in boarding school, I tried to underperform on a test so the popular girls would like me more. I calculated the number of questions I need to answer incorrectly to receive a B+…"

"A B+? That's your idea of underperforming?"

"Jane! It was very difficult. Purposely giving the wrong answer when I knew the right one felt just like lying. You know I break out in hives when I lie."

"You did not."

"I experienced a prodromal state and then vasovagal syncope."

"English."

"I experienced blurry vision and then fainted in the middle of my exam. Oh, I was so mortified."

Jane bit down on her tongue to keep from laughing, but Maura could feel the vibrations from Jane's shaking shoulders. She couldn't help but smile. Jane's humor was contagious.

"And that was the first and last time the great Dr. Isles did not earn a perfect 100 percent A++."

Minutes passed by as the two leaned against one another, sitting on the steps of the Lincoln and gazing over the reflecting pool at the Washington. Jane spoke first, "You know everything is going to be ok, right? I won't let anything happen to you."

Maura rested her head on Jane's shoulder, squeezing the detective's arm. "I know."


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: Apologies for this chapter taking so long. Work obligations have been... demanding, as of late. I love work as much as I love gonorrhea. At least one of those has a cure.**

**I'm only mildly apologetic if I've offended anyone.**

* * *

Jane stood outside the small coffee shop, brown eyes surreptitiously sweeping the street from behind thick Clark Kent frames. Though they'd tried to have a cup of coffee in the hotel room, Maura had "kindly" offered her serving to Jane. The wrinkle of her nose, the tight lips, the narrowed eyes… Jane knew Maura well enough to recognize when her polite and refined upbringing kept her from stating her true feelings. And since the honey blonde couldn't lie if her life depended on it, she said nothing at all. Jane had thrown back both cups, chugging what tasted like burnt water, and then suggested they try the small coffee shop around the corner. After their late night monument tour, Jane was still far from awake but Maura's radiant smile at the idea of fresh espresso was helping the brunette get there.

Maura opened her Birkin bag and grabbed her wallet, fingers skimming over her gold and platinum credit cards before finally fishing out a $10 bill. After Frost's recent discovery, Maura thought it may be best to use cash and avoid leaving a digital trail.

The cashier was a twentysomething fresh graduate with a barely-there beard that had probably taken him a few months to grow. The honey blonde's outfit was professional attire, but the fit masqueraded as slightly inappropriate in the name of fashion. No power pantsuit meant definitely not DC. "Are you visiting from out of town?"

"Yes. I'm attending an event with friends." That wasn't technically a lie. The vaguer the better, in this situation.

"Oh yeah? Well, if you're in town through this weekend, I'd love to take you to dinner. Maybe give you a tour of the monuments." The cashier grinned as he rang up Maura's order and returned her change, which she promptly dropped into his tip jar. He used a small sheet of wax paper to grab her scone and slid the breakfast item over.

"We did that last night. It was lovely!" Maura said, turning her body so the cashier could see Jane standing on the sidewalk outside. The doctor missed the implication in her statement.

"Is that your partner?"

Maura thought for a moment. Jane and Frost were partners, but she worked with the detective on just as many cases. "Not officially, no…"

The cashier nodded in understanding and pulled back his flirting. His gaydar was usually fairly accurate. "You guys picked a great city to get married in and it's a shame more states don't follow DC's example. I hope you two have a wonderful wedding and enjoy celebrating with friends and family."

Maura paused and her genius brain finally caught up with the conversation. She replayed the dialogue in her mind and her mouth silently formed an 'oh.'

The barista behind the coffee bar called out, "Maura!" The cashier turned his attention to the next customer. The honey blonde slowly picked up the two to-go cups from the counter, still trying to sort through her conflicting emotions. When she first realized what the cashier was talking about, the last thing she expected to feel was a thrill at the idea of being married to Jane. She was probably confusing the epinephrine racing through her system. Epinephrine was usually linked with fear, and Maura may have confused that with the thrill of excitement as the associated emotional response to the cashier's assumption. She started to mentally catalog her symptoms, justifying her reaction.

Jane turned her head just in time to see the stunning doctor walk towards her. The detective reached over and opened the door, holding it out of habit as Maura walked out with a beverage in each hand. She had that look on her face—the one she got when she thought so hard she lost track of what was going on around her.

"Earth to Maura…" Jane laughed and took the triple latte from Maura's hand, swallowing hard when their fingers briefly overlapped with one another. Maura registered the deep chuckle that shook her out of her reverie and gently flushed.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Jane let the coffee shop door swing shut and took a long drink. She moaned appreciatively as the taste of rich espresso and steamed milk touched her lips and Maura was shocked by how much that sound affected her.

"Caffeine good," grunted Jane. Maura flashed her a brilliant smile and plucked the bagged scone from her purse, offering it to the brunette. Jane eyed it suspiciously, "Is this a trick? Is it a quinoa scone made with chia seeds and fresh herbs?"

"Or chocolate chip."

"Be still my heart." The two women smiled and started to walk down the street toward the conference, naturally falling in-step.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Her phone buzzed and Sam rolled her eyes at the number that appeared on the screen. She was tempted to hit the 'ignore' button and send him to voicemail. Instead, Sam answered and put the call on speaker as she finished applying her make-up.

"Can I help you?" Her question was met with silence before she heard him clear his throat. She smiled wickedly at her reflection, tracing her lips with a deep, dark lush hue. She was going to make him work for it, as she did with all men who were in the wrong.

"Uh… can your team come down to the conference hotel? There are a lot of cameras and it'd probably be best if there was another set of eyes here…"

"Mhm." Sam decided this morning already required another coat of mascara.

"Does that mean you all will meet me at the hotel?"

"Depends."

Frost sighed. He knew where this was headed, but he also knew he couldn't watch the entire conference crowd on his own. Sam's prints came back clean; the only result returned was her DCPD employment record. That wasn't a surprise since there were no usable prints left at either Boston crime scene. Frost was still waiting to hear back on the DNA, but he wasn't holding his breath. The killer had been obsessively clean and careful.

"Depends on what?"

"On whether or not you trust me yet." Sam waved the mascara brush over her lashes, painting them thick and black.

"I trust you to do your job."

"And…?" She took one last look her reflection, finally satisfied with what she saw.

"And… I'm sorry." Frost knew when to fold and he needed Sam's help right now more than he needed his pride.

"Mhm. See you soon." She hung up the phone and slid on her leather jacket.

When he was sure the line disconnected, Frost looked over at Korsak.

"You keep an eye on her, got it?" Korsak spoke gruffly.

"And you keep an eye on Dr. Isles."

The two inserted their ear buds, which functioned on a different channel than what DCPD used. Just because Frost trusted Sam to do her job didn't mean he trusted her to do much more.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

There weren't enough scones and lattes in the world to make this conference worth it. One workshop later, Jane was ready to stab herself in the jugular with her pen. Maura, on the other hand, was eagerly engaged and involved. She was one of a handful of female attendees and certainly the most attractive one. The doctor had her own fan club of admirers and Jane's face was starting to hurt from scowling.

The panel drew to a close and the moderator thanked the speakers, including "the lovely and charming Dr. Maura Isles." As the audience started to applaud, Jane sprung from her seat and stalked towards the front of the room, already impatient and ready to leave. She cut to the front of the line of men waiting to ask Dr. Isles additional questions and smiled apologetically. Jane flashed her dimples, widening her brown eyes behind the thick frames. She added an extra rasp to her voice as she spoke, "Sorry fellas, I've got an appointment."

The brunette's hand pushed against Maura's waist, gently guiding the doctor toward the door. Maura, in the middle of a conversation, didn't budge as easily as Jane had thought she would so the two found themselves pressed closely together. Every man in line stood there with bated breath, hoping this was the beginning of their geekiest fantasy come to life.

From this angle, Jane could see straight down the front of Maura's dress. She had to remind herself to breathe. Maura didn't notice where Jane's eyes roamed—she was too busy trying to think of something other than how delicious it felt to feel Jane's lean frame against hers. The two women remained in that position for a moment longer than would be appropriate for friends. It was only when they heard Korsak clear his throat in their ears that Maura turned and moved toward the door. Jane reluctantly let her hand fall from the doctor's waist, already missing the warmth of that particular curve.

As the pair maneuvered through the large exhibition space, Jane's hand hovered above the small of Maura's back, a protective gesture more than anything else. Over the past few days, Maura had gotten used to Jane touching her and knew exactly where the detective's hand was—even if it wasn't exactly on her body… yet. Maura stopped unexpectedly, biting back a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile as she felt Jane's hand crash into her back.

"Maura, you ok?"

"Yes, I just need to fix my heel."

"I swear, those shoes really are going to kill you one day," Jane murmured, subconsciously flexing her fingers against Maura's back.

"Jane, shoes can't commit murder… though some of yours may be committing crimes against fashion." Maura laughed at her own joke and shook her head, honey blonde waves falling around her shoulders. Jane offered her arm and Maura held it for balance before bending down to adjust the strap of her Louboutins.

When she straightened back up and started to walk again, she was pleased to find that Jane's hand remained firmly pressed against her.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

The delivery man walked through the hotel lobby, staring at the high ceiling. Professionalism be damned, he didn't even bother to keep his mouth closed. One night here probably cost more than a week's paycheck. This was likely the first and last time he'd ever come in through the front doors of this building, so he wanted to take his time to appreciate the finer things. He greeted a woman passing by. She smiled in return and he felt like a million dollars. On most of his deliveries, people looked through him and past him.

He approached the front desk, holding out the ornate flower arrangement. "These are for Dr. Maura Isles."

The concierge froze. Rafael had emphasized the increased security measures around all guests staying at the hotel and he had issued a gag order for front desk personnel. They were to neither confirm nor deny the presence of a specific guest, and all packages were to be processed through a special security screening. Rafael also specifically requested that he be notified if any visitors expressed interest in Dr. Isles or asked for her by name. It was an explicit direction and one the concierge would never consider disobeying. He plastered a fake smile on his face and responded, "I don't believe we have that particular guest staying with us, but let me check for you. In the meantime, would you like a bottle of water?"

The delivery man shrugged. It didn't matter to him if this was the right address or not—it was the sender's responsibility to double-check that information. He leaned one elbow on the desk and turned to look around the lobby again, wondering what it'd be like to live in this world. He missed the concierge's hushed whispers into the phone. It wasn't until a gentleman dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and groomed salt-and-pepper hair, thick Spanish accent grabbing his attention.

"Thank you for dropping off these beautiful flowers, but I believe there has been some mistake. We do not have that particular guest with us. If you're willing to leave this delivery, we'll call around to our sister hotels and see if we can get these where they belong." Rafael's smooth demeanor and conversational tone belied his sense of urgency. Dr. Isles and Detective Rizzoli had explained their current situation and emphasized the need for increased privacy and discretion around Dr. Isles's location. If the delivery man walked out with these flowers, he may be taking valuable evidence with him. Sensing the other man's hesitation, Rafael reassured him. "I understand you've gone through a lot of trouble for this delivery. Let me take those off your hands and thank you for your effort with a dinner for two at our hotel restaurant, on the house."

The delivery man practically threw the flowers at the general manager. His wife was never going to believe where he was taking her for their anniversary.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Spencer sat in the corner of the Starbucks, facing the door and making a mental note of each person that walked in through the entrance. Old habits die hard and years at the CIA and his subsequent career change proved that paranoia wasn't always overrated. He used the store's free wireless and his generic off-the-shelf laptop to read as much as he could about Dr. Maura Isles. Spencer wanted to know what was so special about this woman. Two people had gone through extraordinary lengths to find him because of her and he wanted to know _why_.

The Chief Medical Examiner was well educated, respected by her colleagues, beautiful, and generous with her wealth. Her biological father was a Boston crime lord. Her adopted mother was a world-renowned artist and lecturer. Her biography read like the plot of a soap opera, but what caught Spencer's attention was the face that appeared in the background of so many photographs of Dr. Isles. From his recollection, medical examiners were expected to handle all bodies and thus weren't assigned a specific partner from the police department. And yet this woman was a constant presence in Dr. Isles's life. Striking features more commonly found on runway models than on a Boston detective. Spencer opened a new browser window and typed _Detective Jane Rizzoli_ into the search bar.

Hours later, Spencer wiped the hard drive on his laptop and reset the machine to factory settings. Slipping the encrypted thumb drive into his pocket, he stepped out of Starbucks and into the crowded street. The computer sat abandoned on the chair.

**R&I: The Good Doctor**

Korsak dialed the number he knew by heart. The phone rang twice before he hung up. He waited exactly three minutes before dropping more coins into the payphone and dialing again.

"What'd you find, Vince?" Hatch's thick Boston accent answered.

"You were right. There's a mole in DCPD."

"You got proof?"

"No, but whoever it is hacked the hotel's security system."

"That doesn't mean it's DCPD."

"Whoever it is… they did it without triggering any of the alerts and warnings DCPD put in place. They knew exactly what DCPD had set up and they avoided all the traps. If Frost didn't have one of his guys watching, we would've never known."

"Goddammit."

"Hatch, why are you interested in a DCPD mole? Just enjoy retirement."

"Because every cop wants to end his career with a closed case. Instead, I'm going to end mine with a suspect that walked because some pimply-faced hacker deleted evidence."

"Dr. Isles is my priority. Catching your mole won't come before protecting her."

"Understood. But if we can kill two birds with one stone, why not?"

"I got a bad feeling about this…"

"You and your feelings. Just call me when you have something."

Dial tone.


End file.
